


Glitter and Gold • TVD & TO [COMING SOON]

by akabanechey



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 11:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19149787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akabanechey/pseuds/akabanechey
Summary: Helena was the kind of girl who sought danger, and the kind that danger itself sought. The one thing her aura of danger and darkness drew to her was a man - someone who had the same danger and darkness about him as she did.However, this story doesn't have a happy ending. Then again, what story does?© Chey Eveleigh / MultifandxmSociety | March 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**_Well, I guess this is how it starts, but it doesn't end well_ **

**I AM GOING TO** tell you about the day I died.

Well, both days I died to be exact.

You see, for someone to be as old as I am, and to have seen as much as I have seen, you have to die at least once in your life. I've lived for centuries, and seen the rise and fall of many a man and woman in positions of power and trust. Over time, the countless wars have passed, and I've seen many a people die in this repetitive world.

Entire species of animals have been sent extinct from the continuous "development of mankind," as so many have put it over the years. Races of people have come close to having been wiped from the planet's surface alongside them; close, but not fully extinct. Sometimes, I believe that it would be best for some of the races to have gone extinct - especially after the four year "Great War" we have just endured.

The "development of mankind" apparently included creating weapons of destruction and death to end the lives of others, and it sickens me to no end. In all my years, I have never seen anything so disturbing or gut-wrenching - even the battles in the mid-to-late 1800's had nothing on the past four years of death and bloodshed.

It was almost six or seven centuries ago that I became what I am; what I was. It was not long after the creation of the first of my kind - the creation of the Originals. The one who made me into this was the youngest son, and it was because we'd grown close to each other despite his "affliction," as he liked to call it all those years ago.

We were together for almost a third of his life, and that included the time he spent daggered in a coffin. However, being what we are came with its perks. In his state, we were able to communicate through me entering his mind and living with him for days on end in there. However, it was only mere hours in the real world. In the end, he decided that it would be better for us to give up on "us" because there was little chance he'd be free of the coffin.

So, that's what we did.

After almost three hundred and fifty years, we forced ourselves to bury our romantic feelings and feel only platonic or familial feelings towards each other whenever we spoke. It was painful, that I will admit, but it was also necessary for me to be able to "live my own life without being tethered down" as he so delicately put it. He and I grew distant over the years, but that changed when he came back to me.

Before I get to that, there's more to the story.

That includes the story of how I died the second time in my life - by the hand of the man I grew to love in the early 1900's. It's quite a long story, so I do hope that you bear with me.


	2. Chapter 2

**_The day my life was changed forever, well, more like I changed his_ **

**MEETING HIM WAS SOMETHING** I knew was going to happen, but I wasn't exactly sure as to when I would meet him - other than it being early this century. A Witch friend of mine told me that much. Contrary to popular belief, Witches and my kind can, and do, get along in most circumstances. However, there are a select few that cannot do so. So, they slaughter each other.

Either way, my Witch friend told me that I would meet the man in black who radiates almost as much danger and darkness as I do. That lead me to come to the Southern States of North America and seek the help of a Witch called Allana LaMarche - a long time friend of hers. She had told me I could find the middle-aged woman in a shop in New Orleans; a town riddled with racism and mistreatment.

Walking into the shop, close on dusk, I keep my head low, a veil covering my face and long black gloves covering my arms past my elbow, small-heeled shoes clacking against the slate floor, and my frivolous black, sequined dress swishing as I move. As much as I like the freedom this century's clothing allows compared to that of the 1800's, it makes me feel uncomfortable. Finally looking up, I meet the warm brown eyes of a middle-aged woman, a young girl about ten or so hiding behind her legs.

Peeling the veil back from my face, I walk over to the woman, instinctively giving off an aura of power. "My name is Helena Mikaelson. Are you Allana LaMarche?"

She gives me a curt nod, eyes warm but still distrustful of me. "I know who you are, Miss Mikaelson. There are many stories about you and your family, and I do believe a few of them are currently in New Orleans, ma'am."

"There's no need for you to be so formal, dear." I assure her, adjusting the shawl on my shoulders. "Oh, how I dislike these clothes. Anyway, I was told by a good friend of mine - Melanie Barker - that you would be able to help me."

"You're a... friend of Melanie's?" Allana's eyes widen slightly as she recognises me. "Oh, yes. I see. I am sorry, Miss Mikaelson. Melanie did inform me that you would indeed be in New Orleans for my help."

As the Witch rushes around her shop, finding what she needs to help me, her daughter - little Valerie - comes over to me, her little eyes confused at what I was. You see, to Witches and Werewolves, my kind give off an aura of death and agelessness - something that gives us away almost instantly. Her little hands shake as they hovered over mine, her brown eyes assessing my grey-blue ones for a moment before walking away.

Allana hands me a small bag with a smile not even a moment later, and I open it to assess the contents. Inside are several pouches and bottles of herbs, a scroll of parchment - no doubt with an incantation written on it, and a small, iron bowl. Closing the bag, I pull the necklace off from around my neck and hand it to the woman, her brown eyes wide with wonder as she gently holds the millennia old artifact.

"Will that be all, Miss Mikaelson?" Allana murmurs, still entranced by the talisman. "I assure you that I can be of further use if you so desire it."

Amusement makes my lips quirk into a smile. "If you are able to perform this spell, it would be most helpful, Allana."

The woman readily agrees and leads me out to the back room, my eyes darting around for any sign of vervain or white ash wood. Relieved to find none, I place the ingredients for the spell onto the table, allowing Allana to combine them as I scan the map on the table, eyes moving through the crudely drawn streets and blocks until they land on where I know the Mikaelson's to be this night.

Mixing the ingredients doesn't take much longer, and I hold my hand over the bowl as the Witch slices it open, my blood dripping into the mix of herbs for a moment before the wound heals. Allana murmurs the incantation over the bowl and then pours the mixture onto the map, watching closely. Having seen enough tracking spells in my time, I lean against the table and stare down at the map, grey-blue eyes following the bloody mixture as it moves along the paper.

Of course, it ends on where the true Mikaelson's are, but that is not a surprise to me right now. After all, from what I've been told about this "man in black" from Melanie, he seems like someone to be associated with that kind of crowd. However, despite the fact that I constantly find myself being more drawn to this mystery man, I also find myself slightly offset by him.

Thanking Allana, I leave the Witch shop, pushing the shawl down so it's wrapped around my lower back, drooping over my forearms as I hold my clutch in front of my abdomen, my heeled shoes clicking against the paved streets. The sun has fallen, and the streets have become more dangerous, making my senses kick into a higher gear and my skin to itch as I sense those lurking in the dark alleyways.

Thankfully, I don't run into someone unsavoury by the time I reach the small, private - properly exclusive - speakeasy. Merely smiling at the doorman and informing him of my last name gains me the entrance I desire, and the rancid stench of cigar smoke and alcohol burns my lungs as I breathe. Walking into the room instantly draws several pairs familiar, ever-present eyes - but one pair is new; alluring.

A glare laced smirk shot to my old family makes them look away, but an almost sultry smirk sent to the mysterious stranger makes his ice blue eyes burn with fire. He raises a glass to me as I walk slowly down the stairs, disappearing into the swarm of bodies and allowing myself to zip through them at my supernatural speed. Appearing behind the dark-haired man, he turns to me with a smirk, seemingly knowing of what I am.

It's then that I get a good sense on him.

"You're like me," he reinforces, a darkness glinting in his bright eyes. "How old are you? You don't seem to be a new one."

I laugh and lean against the bar. "Don't you know it's rude to ask a girl her age, Mr Salvatore?"

"You know who I am."

"Well, of course. Katerina was never shy about her... exploits, dear."

The eldest Salvatore tenses at the mention of the Doppelganger. "Who exactly are you?"

"You haven't figured it out?" A malicious smirk appears on my face as I dip my head back, staring up at him with black eyes. "I'm not one of the progenitors of our kind, but I am one of the first made - by one of them myself."

He stays quiet.

"I am Helena Mikaelson, and it's a pleasure to meet you, love." I move closer to him and brush my lips against his ear, making him shiver. "I'm the monster in the night they warned you about."


End file.
